


A Glimmer of Sweat

by orphan_account



Category: Diners Drive-ins and Dives, Paul Blart: Mall Cop (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 05:20:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16758724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Two whirlwinds, two food lovers; Paul Blart- Mall Cop- the Glutton, and Guy Fieri, the Foodie. Paul has been watching Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives ever since his wife’s death to cope. In doing so, he fell in love with the man wearing bowling shirts and frosted tips. Will Guy adore him the same way, and take him into his sweltering, soggy arms?





	A Glimmer of Sweat

Guy Fieri drove in his Ford pickup, hands gripping the steering wheel to the point that his knuckles turned white. He ran another hand through his frosted tips, and his flame shirt fluttered in the wind blowing through his bright red air conditioning unit. 

The sound of coppers penetrated the vehicle, over the sound of the Hungarian ambient throat singing on the radio. Guy cursed, pulling down his red-pepper sunglasses at the sound. 

A scraping came from cheap leather dress shoes bought on sale at Rack Room; the sound of a thousand drones echoed across the barren Las Vegas landscape. 

Paul Blart, Mall Cop, landed on the roof of Guy Fieri’s Ford. Paul Blart was sliding, sliding down the roof of the car. 

“I don’t know who you are, but you’re not getting far!” Guy cried, revving the engine so hard that the purple flames painted on the side of his glimmering pickup appeared to be blurs. 

Paul screamed, letting go of the drones as he slid onto the hood of the truck. His white mall cop shirt was stained with the car wax, as he gripped onto the grill with his fat sausage fingers. 

Paul pulled himself up onto the hood of the car, slamming his Rack Room shoe onto it. Guy screamed, thinking to himself how unflavorful he would appear as he rolled into Las Vegas. Paul met eyes with Guy, the pale circles of his eyes from the protection of sunglasses showing what once was; the rest of his face reflected the colors of the dusty rose of a 7-Eleven hotdog. His eyes gleamed the color of a sizzling hamburger, from one of the Diners, Drive-Ins, or Dives he had travelled so far to see. 

Guy met eyes with the stranger, clinging onto the hood of his car. His pupils lingered onto his thick mustache, the color of dark chocolate. His eyes were wide and puppy-like, the hello kitty bandaid on his jaw showing where he had been; who had hurt him? Guy didn’t know why, but a boiling, gumbo-like stew of anger bubbled up in his chest. 

And it terrified Guy. 

Guy began swerving on the road, trying to throw off the beautiful stranger; he clung on, however. Paul kicked the glass of the car, shattering the windshield. The wind whistled through the car as Paul scrambled in through the shards of glass.  
Guy stopped the car, sputtering curses as he touched his temple. Warm blood trickled from the cut, and Guy’s fingers came back red and metallic. Guy wondered for a moment how it would taste- his friend, Andrew Zimmern, often boasted about his travels across the world to eat strange foods, most containing blood or bull penis. 

“Are you Guy Fieri?” Paul Blart asked, huffing and buckling himself into the car. 

“W-yes! What are you doing here?”

Paul stared at him for a moment, conflicted, “I-I’m here for you, Guy. Every day, since April 23, 2017, I’ve watched your show, recorded every episode... even before my wife died, I knew I didn’t love her anymore. I loved you, Mr. Fieri. I’m in a bit of a sticky situation right now but... I found you, I finally found you.”

Guy’s eyes trembled onto Paul’s lips, thin and the color of uncooked kidney beans. Paul leaned towards him, his meaty hands cupping Guy’s sagging cheeks. He brushed his fingers against Guy’s goatee, closing the space between their mouths and embracing the rubbery, bubble gum-end mouth of Guy. 

Guy’s mouth tasted like Donkey Sauce, garlicky and mayonnaise, something of his own creation that he carried tubs of everywhere he went. He had just eaten at Taco Bell, and the wrapper sat on the floor beside him, the Chalupa Cravings Box and the XXL Grilled Stuft Burrito Combo #2, his favorites among the steak nachos. 

Guy was surprised to find that Paul Blart’s lips were tinged with the soft, sweet taste of strawberry chapstick. The softness of his lips contrasted to the roughness of his mustache sharply, and despite never having relations of this type before, Guy Fieri craved it more than a huge burrito.  
“This feels so wrong...” Guy gasped, “But so right; like when I drink a Big Gulp after going to the doctor’s office.”

“I’ve never had someone understand me like that before,” Paul whispered, a tear rolling down his face, “Guy-,”

“Wait a minute.” Guy said, “I got completely intoxicated by your kiss and your sizzling sausage brown eyes- but, what in blue blazes were you doing? Where did you get all those drones from?”

Paul blushed the color of paprika, “You’ll do anything… for love.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoys :) really love this pairing


End file.
